


Thermostatic

by robocryptid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friends With Benefits To Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, almost getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26839870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robocryptid/pseuds/robocryptid
Summary: They meet on Lúcio’s terms, because Baptiste is helpless to do it any other way. It’s no wonder the guy’s led a revolution and become world famous; once he’s got you in his orbit, you’re never getting out again.Steam swirls around them. It’s midday, but what he knows of everyone’s schedules says there shouldn’t be any traffic through here. It’s still public enough that Baptiste’s skin crawls with the sense of exposure. Lúcio double checks that the stall door is locked, and he pushes in closely, capturing Baptiste’s mouth with his own. He has to push up onto his toes until Baptiste stoops low enough for him.
Relationships: Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Lúcio Correia dos Santos
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58





	Thermostatic

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this NSFW art](https://twitter.com/bloomingnsfw/status/1241494694875369472?s=21) by [bloomingcnidarians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomingcnidarians).

#

It’s fun, running around like this. Baptiste doesn’t know what they _are,_ exactly, but he gets the feeling Lúcio might be the type to avoid labels at all costs. Friends with benefits probably covers it. They spend time together sometimes, but mostly that time is a lead up to sex. 

They meet on Lúcio’s terms, because Baptiste is helpless to do it any other way. It’s no wonder the guy’s led a revolution _and_ become world famous; once he’s got you in his orbit, you’re never getting out again.

Steam swirls around them. It’s midday, but what he knows of everyone’s schedules says there shouldn’t be any traffic through here. It’s still public enough that Baptiste’s skin crawls with the sense of exposure. Lúcio double checks that the stall door is locked, and he pushes in closely, capturing Baptiste’s mouth with his own. He has to push up onto his toes until Baptiste stoops low enough for him.

They kiss until they’re both hard, and he cups Lúcio’s hip to pull him closer, but Lúcio has other ideas. He breaks the kiss with a smile, dark eyes gleaming with some sort of mischief, and he drops carefully to one knee then the next. His hands skim Baptiste’s thighs, sucking kisses into the crease of his hip. His lips drag, open-mouthed, along the length of Baptiste’s cock, and it takes all his willpower to keep still, to let Lúcio explore and tease.

He slips the tip of Baptiste’s cock between his lips, bobbing shallow and slow while he looks up at Baptiste. It’s like he’s checking to make sure he has his full attention — as if Baptiste could look away. The thought makes him laugh, but it comes out like it’s just another groan. 

Lúcio seems satisfied enough with that, because he lets his eyes drift closed, lips sliding down, slippery and perfect, plump from their kissing and the work he’s doing now. The locker room door squeaks on its hinges, audible even over the running water. 

“Huh, I thought I saw Baptiste come in here,” someone says. Reinhardt maybe. Baptiste bites down on a curse, and Lúcio rises to his feet with a smirk. “Baptiste…?” Definitely Reinhardt. His voice rings through the tiled room. 

Lúcio presses closer, sliding against Baptiste. His hands glide up Baptiste’s chest. Their skin is slippery, water gliding over Lúcio’s shoulders and down his back, following Baptiste’s hand over the muscular curve of his ass. 

“Be out in a sec,” he calls out, proud of the steadiness of his voice. He fumbles the tube of lube Lúcio hands him, nearly drops it when Lúcio chuckles against his neck. The laugh is muffled, but it still makes his heart hammer with the certainty Reinhardt can hear it. When the tube finally slips free, it clatters on the tile. The sound is deafening in his ears, as is Lúcio’s grunt when his chest vibrates with another laugh. 

“You alright?” calls Reinhardt. 

“Just dropped my body wash,” he answers through gritted teeth. Lúcio has a hand at his throat, lips closing around his ear, and Baptiste knows his voice is reedier than it should be. 

“Ah, let’s give the man his privacy,” Torbjörn announces. It doesn’t sound suspicious, but that doesn’t stop Baptiste’s heart from pounding until he imagines he hears the quiet swish of the door closing. 

“You’re a menace,” he murmurs against Lúcio’s mouth. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Lúcio asks. It’s satisfying to watch his eyes widen then go half-lidded when Baptiste pushes a finger in. Then Lúcio laughs again, stance widening slightly and ass tipping back against Baptiste’s hand. He opens up easily, mouth slipping away from Baptiste’s to pant against his shoulder instead. 

It would be easy to do it just like this, spread Lúcio wide on his fingers and make him beg for it, but all it takes to banish that idea is a single glance at Lúcio’s face, dark with pleasure and brown eyes somehow dazed and adoring at once. Baptiste’s never been mean enough to give him anything but what he wants. 

He slips his fingers free to the sound of a quiet moan, and he guides them until Lúcio’s back is against the wall. “Come on,” Baptiste says, hands practically swallowing Lúcio’s slim waist. 

He lifts, and Lúcio’s thick thighs clamp down above Baptiste’s hips. Baptiste hooks an arm under one of Lúcio’s knees. The other is harder, but Lúcio’s strong enough to hold the pose on his own while Baptiste’s cock slides behind his balls and up the crack of his ass. He grabs for it, the head slipping in lube and the water dripping over their skin, then he finally catches on Lúcio’s rim, which opens eagerly for him. 

The crown of his cock pops in, and he has to work to balance them both, but he manages. Baptiste holds him, eases his cock up and in and lets gravity do some of the work while Lúcio curses and groans against his shoulder. 

Lúcio clings to him, hand clutching at the back of his neck, and he spasms around Baptiste’s cock, body drawing him in and in until he’s fully buried. It’s hot, perfect, clutching around him. Lúcio can barely move, trapped between the wall and Baptiste’s big body, and his muscles strain against Baptiste’s hold as he squirms, trying to rock himself on the thick cock spearing him open. 

It’s clumsy at first. He has to widen his stance on the treacherously slick flooring, get his balance under control and his knees under him just right. Then he hoists Lúcio’s legs up as high as he can, and he takes his time, luxuriating in the feel of him and resisting the urge to go harder, faster. Lúcio slips against the tile the smallest distance, and he curses again, mouth moving against Baptiste’s collarbone. 

It’s all the input he needs. Baptiste pushes him tighter against the wall, pinning him in place, and he caves to the desire to fuck into him as hard as he can. “Shit, God,” Lúcio groans, then he curses again, in Portuguese and a multitude of languages, a steady stream of it until he can no longer form words at all. 

Baptiste would laugh. He almost wants to, but he’s focused now on the hot clutch of Lúcio’s body around his cock, on the sounds puffed against his clavicle and neck, on the hot tension in his gut and the burn in his thighs, and he simply drives into him. He can feel Lúcio’s hand slip between them, moving jerkily as he tugs at himself, then Lúcio’s sobbing against his throat and spilling hot between them. He goes loose-limbed after, clinging helplessly to Baptiste’s shoulders. 

It’s easy to let go after that, to mindlessly fuck into him until the heat in his belly builds and he comes with a last hard thrust. He slows down as he rides it out, head bent half on the tile and half against Lúcio’s. 

The first coherent thought he has after is that he should move, stop panting directly into Lúcio’s ear, but he’d rather stay put. It’s Lúcio who makes him move, flexing against him gently. It takes some effort not to slip in the water as they untangle, but eventually Lúcio’s back on his feet. He hasn’t stopped leaning into Baptiste’s body yet though. 

“You good?” Baptiste asks around a dried out tongue. 

“Great,” Lúcio mumbles. He still doesn’t move. “Might be a little— yeah, that was good.”

Baptiste doesn’t know how to answer that. It’s nonsense, probably. Brain still working to come online after the chemical release. Drowsiness setting in. It could mean nothing, but Baptiste takes the opportunity to hold him. It doesn’t happen often; Lúcio doesn’t seem to be much of a cuddler. But right now, he’s leaning heavily into Baptiste’s chest, swaying on his feet like he’s groggy. Maybe it’s taking advantage, but this is one that’s hard to have any guilt over. 

Instead he dips his head low to kiss Lúcio again. It’s lazier this time with nowhere to go, and Lúcio grunts in surprise but doesn’t break it. He leans into it instead, lips soft as they part for his tongue. 

They kiss until Lúcio decides it’s finished. He pulls back, eyes flicking over Baptiste’s face. “Water’s getting cold,” he says. 

“Yeah.” 

“Should probably… turn it off?” Lúcio suggests. 

“Ah. Right.” Baptiste is not a stupid man. He has done many stupid things in his lifetime, but he knows his own intelligence. It’s unfair that Lúcio can turn him into a wordless idiot like this. At least he can summon the brainpower to cut the water. 

They dry off and dress in silence, and Baptiste can’t stop himself from watching Lúcio’s every ginger movement. He doesn’t want to leave without saying anything, but perhaps it would be for the best. 

Then again, Lúcio still makes him an idiot. Baptiste’s mouth is open and moving before he gives it permission. “I should probably figure out what they wanted. But later. Maybe dinner? You and me?” He smiles, and maybe it isn’t convincing, but he’s been told he has a nice smile. 

Lúcio has a nice smile too, even if this one seems surprised. “Dinner? You mean like…”

“Like me and you, eating. Uh, food. That I’ll cook, if you want. Or we could go somewhere, or—”

“Sure.” Lúcio flushes. “I mean, yes. Big yes. I’d like that.” 

It’s awkward, which is stupid for two people who’ve spent so much time naked together, but Baptiste can feel how broad his grin is. He knows he has to go talk to Reinhardt first, but his mind is already several steps ahead, planning the menu for what might be their first actual date. 


End file.
